Successor
Disclaimer: Nothing clever to say. Don't own Pokemon.
A young man of around fifteen years old stops before the massive building and looks up. Ever since Giovanni fled the Kanto region and its authorities, it's sat empty for the past three years. He wasn't too surprised when he'd put his application for taking over as gym leader was accepted. He is, after all, a pretty good trainer, if he does say so himself.
He is no longer the arrogant, brash youth with the cocksure smile and the snappy one liners, baiting and mocking his rival, who's now gone on to become the most powerful trainer that the world has ever seen.
The teen smirks. He'll have to settle for being second best. He's gotten some healthy doses of humility in his short life, and that's brought him down a few pegs. All for the best, he thinks. After all, he did once conquer the Kanto Elite Four, and was the Champion, if only briefly.
Not many can boast that claim. He takes a measure of solace in that.
He enters the key card into the slot, punching in the code that was given to him. The doors open with a soft hiss of hydraulics, and he steps into the cavernous gym, his steps echoing throughout. It's going to need some work to get back into shape, but he feels he's up to the task.
He takes all six pokeballs from his belt, enlarges them all, and one by one, releases his team from their confinement. Exeggutor, Rhydon, Gyrados, Machamp, Pidgeot, Arcanine.
He smirks. If any challengers come his way hoping to face down Red, then by Arceus, he's going to make them work for it. Make them remember that he himself was once a force to be reckoned with, and still is.
"What do you think, guys? Home sweet home."